


Percent Recovery

by the_genderman



Series: Semi-Canon Freebird-Verse [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Declarations Of Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), flangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 12:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12232455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_genderman/pseuds/the_genderman
Summary: Sam's having a bad day. Steve just wants to help him through it.





	Percent Recovery

Steve’s cheeks were pink and tingling a little as he jogged back up the steps to his and Sam’s floor at the Tower. The morning had opened with that perfect, crisp late fall weather where you actually _want_ to get running to warm yourself up. Surprisingly, Sam had declined to join Steve on their usual morning run. He had mumbled something about “don’t really feel up to it, you go ahead” and rolled over, pulling the blankets over his head so Steve could turn on a light to dress by. Steve had asked him if he was sure about that and had received a shrug in return. Sam _had_ just returned from a week-long trip through rural Saskatchewan tracking possible Winter Soldier sightings (and finding one completely demolished HYDRA base in a still-smoking crater in a former wheatfield); he probably just wanted a lie-in in his own bed for a change.

Letting himself back inside, Steve kicked off his shoes and decided he’d like a cup of coffee before his shower. Heading into the kitchen, he noticed it was still exactly as he had left it. So, either he had forgotten about some alternative breakfast plans, or Sam was still in bed. Steve topped up the coffee maker, set it to brew, and went to check on him. Gently nudging the door open, he paused in the doorway, leaning a little against the wall. The curtains were still closed and there was a Sam-shaped lump under the blankets in the middle of the bed.

“Hey there, Sleeping Beauty. Rise and shine, the day awaits,” Steve teased lightly, walking over to the windows and pulling the curtains open. The sun filtered in through the blinds, painting Sam’s blanket-covered figure in narrow bands of light and shadow. 

Sam grumbled and rolled over, turning away from the window.

Steve stopped. He didn’t pull the curtains closed again, but he sat down on the edge of the bed and lay his hand gently on Sam’s arm. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You feeling ok? Anything in particular I can do for you?”

“You think you could knock me out real gentle?” Sam said with a quiet sniffle. “All I want right now is just to spend the whole day asleep, and I’m awake enough that I don’t think I’m gonna fall back asleep naturally. Hit me right on the temple, please.” One hand peeked out from under the blankets and he tapped his temple with a gesture of ‘right here.’

“Yeah, not gonna do that, Sam,” Steve chuckled. “I might be able to get you some warm milk and Benadryl, however, if you really need the rest. Are you coming down with something? Have you gotten your flu shot yet?”

“No, I’m not getting sick. Yes, I got my flu shot last week.”

Steve’s forehead creased. “Something’s wrong; do you want to talk about it?” he asked softly.

“Not really,” Sam muttered, pulling the blankets back up over his head.

“Is that a ‘please leave me alone’ or an ‘I don’t wanna talk, but you can stick around’?”

“I mean, if you _want_ to, you can stick around,” Sam answered after a moment of silence, his voice muffled by the blankets. “I’m not going to be doing much of anything interesting.”

“Something’s bothering you. If you wanna lay in bed all day, I could join you, if that’s what you’d like. You’ve taken on a _lot_ these past six months. I know you said that you didn’t really have any unbreakable ties to Washington, but it can’t have been easy to pull everything up so we could spend three months on the road on a really long wild goose chase. And then to keep up the search alone even after my Avengers duties kept me too busy to help. You’ve done so much for me, it’s the least I can do to just _be_ there for you,” Steve said, gently petting the Sam-shaped blanket lump.

Sam made an indeterminate noise and lifted the blankets up so Steve could crawl under them. Steve wriggled under the blankets and wrapped his arms around Sam, pressing his forehead against the back of Sam’s head.

“You didn’t shower,” Sam said, wrinkling his nose and pushing the blankets back down and off his head.

“Sorry,” Steve replied. “I can go do that now.”

“Could you stay here? I can handle your post-run funk as long as I’m not marinating in it under a blanket,” Sam said, taking Steve’s hand in his and squeezing.

“Yeah, of course. I’ve got no plans,” Steve said, squeezing back.

Steve knew time was passing, but it was of no importance. He lay warm and silent under the blankets, pressed close to Sam’s back. Sam’s breathing was deep and slow, measured, with an occasional hitch. His breathing quietly synchronized with Sam’s as he drifted back off to sleep.

\-------------------

Steve woke suddenly to the sound of something breaking, immediately alert. Sam’s spot in bed was still warm, so he hadn’t been gone long. Steve climbed out of bed and hurried to the kitchen where he thought the sound had come from.

Sam was standing barefoot at the counter, spilled coffee and shattered ceramic around him on the floor. He had one arm hugging his stomach, the other was up, his hand covering his face, head bowed. He was trying to hide it, but Steve could see his shoulders shaking.

“Sammy, baby, what’s wrong?” Steve asked, hurrying over.

Sam waved him off. “You’ll get shards in your feet.”

“Ok, I’ll clean up first, then will you tell me what’s wrong?” Steve said, detouring to the pantry to grab the little whisk broom and dustpan and a towel. He knelt down at Sam’s feet and carefully swept all the broken mug, the big fragments and the little shards, into the dustpan and tipped them into the under-sink trashcan. He mopped up the lukewarm coffee from the floor, wringing the towel out into the sink before hanging it over the pantry doorknob to dry before being added to the laundry.

Sam watched with one eye through his fingers. “I’m sorry I broke your mug,” he added softly.

“No, it’s fine, Sam. I can always get another mug. I can’t get another you,” Steve said, leaning over to kiss Sam on the forehead and pulling him into a hug. “I’m listening, if you want to talk.”

Sam sighed heavily, hesitating. Making his decision, he wiped his eyes and gestured towards the kitchen table where he and Steve took their usual seats.

“Four years ago…” Sam began, leaning his elbows against the table, hands on his forehead. “Riley died four years ago today. I _know_ grief takes time and that it’s different for everyone. I don’t know how many times I’d said those same words in my position at the VA, telling returning soldiers and airmen that grief takes time, don’t rush it. You’re not weak for feeling the way you do, it wasn’t your fault. I just can’t seem to believe it when I tell myself the same thing. 

“Last year wasn’t this bad; I just kind of spent the day in a fog, but at least I didn’t start crying over coffee. Now this. You’d fallen asleep again and I’m lying there, feeling sorry for myself. So I decide that I need to get up, get some breakfast in me, at least, before going back to bed. Maybe if I’m quick, you won’t even notice I was gone. I see the coffeemaker’s got a pot ready, so I pour myself a cup, take a sip, and suddenly I’m back in Afghanistan, laughing with Riley about how, no matter how hot the weather got, the coffee was never more than lukewarm. The night he died we’d finished our terrible coffee, suited up, and headed off on our mission. The last thing we talked about was that stupid coffee and about how, when we got back, he’d make sure to introduce me to real Cuban coffee.”

Sam dropped one hand to the tabletop, the other covering his mouth. He looked away. Steve reached out and squeezed Sam’s fingers.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said quietly. “You want to talk about it?”

“Yes? No? I don’t know, Steve. I just miss him so much,” Sam said, shaking his head and dropping his free hand to cover Steve’s.

Standing up from the table, Steve walked around behind Sam, leaning over him and wrapping his arms around his shoulders and chest. Sam leaned back into the embrace, closing his eyes and focusing on how warm Steve was. Even if he did still smell a little sweaty.

“Whadya say we both go shower now and I’ll treat you to a nice breakfast, or lunch or whatever time it is, out, wherever you want to go?” Steve asked. “I’ve found that a hot shower is a good way to start feeling better. To try to relax and wash some of the tension away.”

“I think I could do that,” Sam replied.

\------------------

Sam waited, leaning against the sink counter as Steve adjusted the water temperature and pressure. He was only half watching; he usually loved seeing his boyfriend naked, but right now he just felt a little bit guilty. He had just hinted to Steve that he was still a little in love with Riley, even after everything. And Steve had said it was ok, but was it? Really? They’d been dating ( _secretly_ , he grumbled a little, only his family and the Avengers and a select few other people knew) now for six months. And as much as Steve said he was happy with what they had, there was always a little voice of doubt at the back of Sam’s mind and it had taken lately to telling him that he and Steve wouldn’t last. On good days, he could usually shut it up, but today wasn’t a good day. And now it was telling him that he’d given Steve all the ammunition he needed.

Steve slid the glass shower door open and Sam looked up. “Come on in, the water’s fine,” Steve said with a soft smile.

Sam pushed himself up off the counter and stepped into the shower. Steve moved back to let Sam spend time under the water first. Sam turned and let the shower spray against his back, hot and relaxing. He bent his head and just stood there focusing on his breathing and the sound of the water for a couple minutes. He stepped out of the water to trade places with Steve, who had his shampoo at the ready. Sam pulled his washcloth off the shower rack and took the soap that Steve was offering. Maybe, like Steve had said, he could pretend that he was washing all his stress and worry off, too, when he rinsed the soap off. They passed the shower in silence, but Steve’s eyes and smile and body language spoke louder than words. He was feeling a little better, a little more confident when Steve finished rinsing himself off and turned off the water. Sam followed Steve out of the shower and let him wrap a huge, fluffy towel around his shoulders.

“Feeling any better?” Steve asked.

“A little,” Sam admitted, drying himself off.

“Hey, that’s better than nothing,” Steve replied, cheerfully optimistic. “So, what are you in the mood for? Where would you like to go?”

“I think I’d just like to eat in and talk, if that’s ok,” Sam answered. 

“Yeah, of course,” Steve said, hanging his towel back up to dry. “How about fajitas? I know that was supposed to be dinner, but I can cook them now and we can figure out dinner at dinnertime.”

“Fajitas sound great,” Sam called over his shoulder as he returned to their bedroom to dress.

\-------------------------

“Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m ready to listen,” Steve said, clearing the dishes off the table and sliding them into the sink to be washed later.

“Can we talk on the couch?” Sam said, standing up and pushing his chair in.

“Yeah, of course,” Steve replied. “Go ahead and get comfortable, I’ll join you.”

\-------

When Steve got settled onto the couch, Sam pulled the throw blanket off the back of the couch and lay down, his head resting in Steve’s lap. He tucked the blanket up under his chin. Steve looked a little startled for a fraction of a second, but quickly relaxed. He kept one arm on the arm of the couch and place the other hand lightly on Sam’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath.

“Ready to let it all out?” Steve asked gently. 

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” Sam shrugged. “You ever get those little intrusive thoughts telling you dumb stuff you know, on some level, isn’t real, but you’re a little afraid that there might be a grain of truth in it?”

“You too?” Steve answered with a little laugh of relief. “Oh, I get them all the time. I just thought I was being stupid or ungrateful. Most of the time I get something along the lines of ‘But what if you’re faking it? You’re gonna wake up one day skinny again and then everyone will know you’re a fraud.’ Is that’s what’s wrong? What’s your little voice of doubt telling you today? And can I help shut it up?”

“I love you, you know that, right?”

“Of course, Sam.”

“I don’t want to make this weird for you. I love you, but I loved him too,” Sam said. “I don’t want to sound needy, but I just need to hear this from you. To hear that you still love me. That I didn’t completely mess things up by telling you how I felt about Riley. That little voice has been telling me for a couple months now that one of these days you’re gonna decide that you’re not happy with what we’ve got, that you want a relationship that you can be public about, and that you won’t want that with me. Especially now that I told you about Riley.”

“Oh, Sam. I love you. So much,” Steve said, his smile rising and his eyes crinkling a bit at the corners. He found Sam’s hand under the blanket and gave it a squeeze, leaning over and lifting it to kiss it through the blanket. “I _don’t_ want to leave you. I know I haven’t always been so open to the idea of coming out, but the longer we’re together, the more it _is_ something I feel like I want, and need, to do. But not until we’re done cleaning up HYDRA. HYDRA is insidious and needs to be wiped out completely or else they’ll start to grow again, and if we’ve got people bothering us about our relationship, then we might miss something. So, hopefully we can get that cleared up as soon as possible so we can go public and not have to hide anymore.”

“And the idea that there’s only one person out there for anyone? Just not true,” Steve added reassuringly. “If there’s such a thing as soulmates, you’re mine, but so was Peggy. And Riley was yours, just like I am. It’s ok to miss him, to miss what might have been. I understand. I’m not gonna leave you, Sam. For better or worse, I’m yours and you’re mine. Now come on up here and gimme a kiss.”

Sam sat up, dragging himself into Steve’s lap and feeling Steve’s arms wrapping around his back, holding him tight. He threw his arms around Steve’s neck, pulling him closer. Steve’s lips met his and he surrendered to the embrace.


End file.
